The drums. Tama Imperialstar with Zilgian cymbols. You see those drums represent years of my life. They we're first set up in our den studio, where I practiced piano at the age of 5 or 6. I thought that room was haunted, more about that later. My mom taught me the most important thing a musician needs to know...how to count to 4. I remember hours of playing, and counting loudly and blinking every time I hit the snare drum. I still do! I also remember countless of hours of feeling abandoned because mom was practicing, a lot. I didn't understand that it was her art, or her work, or way of life. I just remember going in time and time again and she was still playing, probably learning songs, I know now, but I thought she was just ignoring me.
So to sell them, or even trade for a good brake job, is not in me. I thought it might be, if the price were right or I wanted my friend to have them. But as I looked at them in the attic music room of that old house that I am not packing up quickly enough, I cried and realized those drums are part of me. I can't get rid of the them anymore than the hundreds of guitars, or paintings, or much else. I know I have to part with most of it, but somethings just go too deep, and the drums are one of those things, They are technically my drums, she bought them for me, told me they were for me, but she played them. She saved them for me all those years, and carefully brought them back and forth from house to house.
So I guess we are going to make a music room out of the basement sooner or later. I'll be practicing my drums and counting loudly so that all the world knows I can keep the beat. I think I do have good timing, thanks Mom!
Not my drums, but some just like them...
